


He Even Has Dog Socks

by Aifeifei



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Abuse of the tagging system, Alternate Universe, Drunk Katsuki Yuuri, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Propositions, Seduction, based on my life, mature rating is for yuuri repeatedly propositioning victor, no seriously yurio what the hell, shameless flirting, unfortunately it was not as sexy, victor will do anything for yuri plisetsky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aifeifei/pseuds/Aifeifei
Summary: Victor is a Good Dad,™ which is why he doesn't stay in bed after receiving an angry phone call at 3AM from his almost-son whining about a drunk Japanese man who cannot remember his home address. Upon Yurio's request, Victor drags his tired ass to the train station to pick the stranger up, only to find that he is really drunk and reeeeaaaally cute.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately this happened to me except it was not a cute Japanese man it was a shitfaced white girl who barfed on my carpet. I made it better with this lovely story. Enjoy xoxo

Victor blinked out of a half-sleep at his pitch black room, a tiny sliver of moon peeking through his curtains. Although his eyes were welcomed with the gentle sight, Victor’s ears were assaulted with loud Avril Lavigne music.

Victor groaned, and groggily shoved his hand underneath his pillow, fingers groping for the offending iPhone. Having found it, the flashy vibrations shook his bones and Yuri Plisetsky’s angry face (or rather, _normal_ face) glared brightly back at him. Victor answered the phone, holding it to his ear.

“Wah,” Victor managed, rubbing his face into his pillow.

“Victor, you fucking slut, like answer your fucking phone more— augh—! Get the— fuck, no, god dammit!” Victor pulled the phone back from his face and blinked at it. He reached to switch on the lamp above his head, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as Yurio continued to swear.

“Yurio? What’s going on? I’m sleeping,” Victor said, eyebrow furrowed at the small giggle that could be heard on the other line amidst strings of angry Russian.

“Okay, listen, I was just out with Beka and that _asshole_ JJ, and your fucking nasty dingo Chris was there too, and this god— fuck no! Yu— If you don’t fucking stop this right now—“ Victor heard a shuffle over the line. “This stupid Japanese kid was here and got totally wasted and his best friend is sick or something, I only know this ‘cuz Chris told me, and Chris knows this cuz they bonded over pole dancing on the side of the club… it was fucking nasty…” Yurio’s shudder could be heard over the phone. “No! No, don’t sit there… dammit…”

Victor raised an eyebrow, running his hand through his hair, already knowing the answer to his next question. “And why does it matter to me?”

“This idiot doesn’t know his fucking address, Victor. There is no way in _hell_ I’m bringing him back to Yakov’s!” Yurio’s voice strained over the line and Victor let out a long sigh.

“Well you’re not dumping this on me,” Victor said, but part of him already knew that that he was going to give in. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Yurio made a protesting noise and then began talking somewhere that wasn’t the phone.

“Don’t go that close to the line, you idiot, oh for fuck’s sake…” there was a shuffle. “No, yeah, just,” Yurio huffed, “just sit there okay? Yes.” Distant speaking. “Yeah, of course there is. Yeah my friend has lots.”

Victor raised his eyebrows as Yurio’s breathing edged towards his phone again.

“I told him there’s alcohol at your house,” Yurio whispered. “He won’t go anywhere unless there’s alcohol. This is all fucking Jean-Jackoff’s fault.”

“There’s no alcohol at my house,” Victor lied, reluctantly sliding his duvet over his legs. “Even if there was, he wouldn’t be getting any.”

“Well no shit, loser,” Yurio said, grumbling. “I’m just telling him that so he’ll go. Anyway, I need you to pick him up at the station.”

Victor’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m not gonna fucking walk all the way to your place,” Yurio said, like that was obvious. “I don’t even know this idiot pig, I’m not doing shit for his drunk ass.”

“Yuri,” Victor said, swinging his legs off the bed, running a hand over his face again. “Why is he my problem? I was in bed. It’s three in the morning.”

“It’s 2:30,” Yurio said. “And you have basic human decency. I’m doing you a favour by riding the train with him anyway. If you don’t come pick him up, he’ll die.”

“The train is going in your direction anyway,” Victor said, half-heartedly, putting his phone on speaker so he could groggily pull some pants over his hips. “And are you implying you _don’t_ have basic human decency?”

“Obviously,” Yurio said, the eye roll present. “Anyway, meet me at the train in 20 minutes. The train is just pulling up,” Yurio said, and Victor heard a distinct cheer in the background and a grunt from Yurio. “Get the fuck off of me!”

Victor sighed. “Okay, fine, I’ll be there.” Yurio had already hung up. Victor felt momentarily offended that the kid took it as a given that Victor would rush to the aid with this little coaxing. Nevertheless, he groaned and swung open the door to his room. Mila had left the living room light on, and Victor pinched his eyes to try to get used to the brightness.

He looked down at himself, dressed in striped pyjama pants and socks with dog ears protruding from just above the toes. Victor pulled a blue jumper off his dresser and pulled it on, and shoved his phone in his pyjama pockets. He sighed, looking at the blinking clock over the stove in the nearby kitchen. So much for an early sleep.

“What are you doing?” Mila asked, peeking out of her bedroom door, voice thick with sleep.

Victor gave her a look that said that he didn’t really want to be doing it. “Yurio is making me go get some drunk guy from the train station.”

Mila raised her eyebrows. “What…”

“That’s all I know,” Victor shrugged. “And you know I can’t say no to him.” Victor sighed. Mila retreated back into her room.

“Well, count me out of that mess.” She shut the door, and Victor rolled his eyes.

10 minutes to meeting time (because it took 10 minutes to walk to the station), Victor swung open his apartment door. He’d shoved his embarrassing socks into rubber boots and donned his usual winter jacket and a thick scarf. Victor patted his pockets to make sure he had everything — keys, wallet, phone — and then he closed the door and locked it. He let his head fall against the door and he groaned.

Victor had made sure to lay out a sheet on the couch for the drunk Japanese boy, and he stuck a bucket and a glass of water on the side table. To be safe, right? And to save time, so when he finally got home, he didn’t waste too much sleep time trying to get set up.

Victor got the station a minute or two early. He waited for Yurio outside the gates. 

This late at night, there were very few people on this side of the city, and very few trains. Most of the businesses had their lights off, so the lights from the station extending high overhead bathed the street in a warm glow. Victor leaned against one of the glass walls of the station, hands in his pockets, humming. 

Victor heard the train arrive, and he watched as a few people ranging from exhausted to wasted descended the stairs. Yuri Plisetsky was one of the last, his face completely disgruntled and blonde hair a complete mess. Victor smiled, and as soon as Yurio noticed him, his tiny nose crinkled and his eyes flicked behind him.

“Good morning,” Victor said, sarcastically, just as the figure who must be the drunk Japanese boy came into sight. Yurio ignored his guest as artfully as he ignored Victor most days.

Victor figured this was horrible idea, because the kid was hanging on to the stair railing like it was his only hope of avoiding a headfirst plummet into the ground below. He had both hands on the rail and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Victor raised his eyebrows as Yurio tapped his transit card and walked through the gate, meeting Victor’s eyes with an expression that was half murder and half desperate plea. Victor fought a wide smile. Of course he ended up doing all this for Yurio, of course he did.

The Russians both watched the Japanese boy stumble into the gates, repeatedly tapping an iTunes gift card into the reader. His eyes widened into larger circles every time the gates buzzed with the invalid fare noise. Yurio groaned and buried his head into his hands. Victor let out a laugh that echoed in the quiet station.

Japanese boy looked up, blinking at the two of them. “I-I,” he licked his lips. “I even have a pass,” he promised, holding up his gift card and letting it slip of out of his hands. His mouth made an ‘o’ as he slowly turned around, trying to locate it on the ground.

Victor fished his own pass out of his wallet. “Here, I got it,” he said, waving his transit card. The boy wrapped his fingers around his gift card and looked up confusedly. Victor tapped his card on the reader. “Come on.”

The Japanese boy just blinked, so Victor reached through the gate and grabbed his arm, pulling him through. He stumbled into Victor as the gates closed, knees completely useless and giggling like an idiot. Yurio made a face.

“Yuuri,” Yurio said, and Victor blinked. “Yuuri…” Yurio crossed his arms and scoffed as Victor steadied the drunk stranger.

“Yes, we get it,” Victor said, “That’s your name.”

“That’s his name, too, dingus,” Yurio said, nodding to the Japanese kid. Victor looked down at Yuuri, struggling to stand even as Victor held him up. “Hey, piggy!”

Yuuri looked at Yurio, nodding slowly. “Mhm?” He said, happily.

“Victor is going to take you home,” Yurio pointed at said person. “Because I don’t want to spend any more time with you, ever. Okay?” Yuuri didn’t seem to mind that. Instead he just shifted in Victor’s arms and looked up at him, snaking his arms around his neck.

Victor blinked, feeling his nose get warm. “Oh ssso,” Yuuri said, eyes closed in a smile. “You’re going to take me home hm?”

Yurio groaned, grabbing at his hair, face full of disbelief. “To sleep, you fucking idiot!” 

Victor laughed breathlessly at the exaggerated eye roll on Yuuri’s face. “Well of course we’re going to sleep together,” Yuuri mumbled, stumbling even farther into Victor’s grip. Despite himself, Victor giggled.

Yurio just blanched. “Okay, that’s— I’m leaving.” Yurio quickly pulled his transit pass out of his pocket. Victor reached with the hand that wasn’t crucial to Yuuri’s uprightness to grab onto Yurio’s jacket.

“Hey, wait, what else do you know about this guy?” Victor said, feeling completely out of his depths. “How did you meet him?”

“I don’t fucking know, Chris found him. He pole dances. I told you that already.” Yurio removed Victor’s hand from his jacket and escaped through the gates.

“W-wait! You’re just gonna leave him with me?”

Yurio climbed up the stairs. “You’ll manage! I’m done here, he’s weird!”

Victor tried to protest more but Yurio had already left, so he turned to look at the man in his arms, who was watching the spot Yurio had disappeared from intently.

“Bye, Yurio!” He said, a little too late. And then quickly, he turned back to Victor, hand’s sliding off his neck to rest on his shoulders. Victor stared back at him.

“Okay, w-wait.” Yuuri said, patting his left hand on Victor’s shoulder as Victor’s hands pressed firmly on his waist. “Who are you?”

“Well, I’m—”

“Because, I just, I just feel like,” Yuuri stuttered, using his elbow to push his crooked glasses farther up his nose. They were even more crooked when he was done. “If we’re gonna sleep together I should know something about you, you know?”

Victor ducked his head and smiled. “We’re not going to sleep together, Yuuri.” Victor said, gently squeezing his waist. “I’m just going to give you a place to sleep because you can’t remember your address.”

Yuuri blinked and rolled back from the balls of his feet to his heels. “Ohh,” Yuuri said, looking a little disappointed. “I do! I do, know.” Yuuri said, disappointment quickly changing. “I know my address.”

Victor, feeling like Yuuri was standing on his own, pulled away from the man a little bit. He kept one hand around him, just in case. “Oh? Where do you live?”

“Mm, 73…” Yuuri scrunched his nose. “4…2. Iiiiimarichoko.”

Victor frowned. “What?”

“That’s my address.”

“I don’t think I know where that is,” Victor admitted. “We can try Googl—”

“It’s in Japaaaaan,” Yuuri said, gesturing behind him like that’s where Japan was. Victor’s lips twitched, and he sighed.

“I meant your address here,” Victor said. “We can’t get a taxi to Japan.”

“Ohh,” Yuuri said, and he seemed to deflate again, slipping a hand off Victor’s shoulder to tap his own lip. “Well, I don’t know then,” Yuuri shrugged, but it ended up tipping him over to one side. Victor caught him, and Yuuri giggled again.

“Well, let’s go back to my house then. You can sleep there, okay?” Victor reached down to pick up the iTunes gift card that had fallen onto the ground again. Yuuri held on to his back while he bent down.

“Mkay,” Yuuri said. “Which way is it?”

Victor nodded in the general direction when he stood back up. Yuuri wasted no time in pressing his whole body against Victor again, but then slid his arm through Victor’s and tried to drag him in the right way. “Wait, wait, let’s walk together,” Victor said, brushing his hair back as he steadied Yuuri who was in constant danger of falling.

Yuuri laughed again, and Victor slipped an arm around his waist as they walked, shoving the gift card into his own pocket with his free hand.

Yuuri was shorter than him, but not by much, and his black hair was matted in sweat and sticking in various directions. He wore a pair of blue glasses, but Victor doubted it helped his vision much at the moment. He was wearing low-waisted black skinny jeans that, Victor noticed curiously, were unzipped and unbuttoned. His belt was on in the wrong direction, and wasn’t fastened, although the buckle was hanging off Yuuri’s hip. Yuuri had worn a grey dress shirt to the club, it seemed, but all the buttons were unordered and one cuff was hanging open.

Victor frowned. “Yuuri, do you have a jacket?”

Yuuri looked all around them like it would for some reason be on the street they were walking. His face looked surprised. “I don’t know where it went,” Yuuri said, softly. His cheeks were flushed and his ears were a sweet pink, and he seemed to suddenly notice he was cold, wrapping his arms around his torso and leaning farther into Victor. “I lost it,” Yuuri said, looking up. His glasses tipped on the edge of his rounded nose. “I think I’m a little drunk,” Yuuri explained.

Victor snorted, oddly endeared by this admittance. “Yes,” Victor agreed, absentmindedly pushing Yuuri’s glasses back into place. “We’ll worry about that in the morning, okay?” Yuuri nodded, and Victor noted his breath coming out in a puff. “Are you cold?” Victor asked.

Yuuri looked at him, nodding slightly, and then quickly shifted to an expression that made Victor blush. “Are you offering to warm me up?” Yuuri snaked his hand across Victor’s chest. Victor grabbed it and softly pushed it away.

“No, but you can have my scarf or something. Here,” Victor said, pausing to pry Yuuri off him for a short second as he unwound the scarf from his neck. Yuuri swayed as he stood on his own, and Victor quickly wrapped his scarf around Yuuri’s neck before he could fall over. Victor tucked the ends in and looked down at Yuuri, who was looking up at him with wide eyes. Yuuri flushed a little more when Victor caught his eye.

“Hey, you’re very good-looking you know,” Yuuri said, uninhibitedly eyeing Victor from his eyes down to his lips and over his body. Victor, who was very subtly thinking the same thing, felt his face heat up.

“Thank you,” he said, mumbling, wrapping his arm back around Yuuri to pull him along. “Let’s keep going, though. We’re not too far.”

They stumbled in silence for a few minutes, or rather, in the company of the sound of Yuuri humming top 40 songs. He tripped a few times over the old, icy snow piled on the sidewalk, giggling funnily when he did so. Victor tried not to look at him, because his nose was tinted a cute red and Yuuri was rather good-looking.

When they reached Victor’s street, Yuuri piped up.

“So, m, what was your name again?” Yuuri asked, pressing into Victor in a way that make it hard to walk. Victor used his hands to guide him in the right direction.

“Victor,” he answered, smiling down at Yuuri. His face was curious and awed and cute; Victor looked ahead.

“Are you Russian? I love Russians,” Yuuri said, matter-of-fact. Victor laughed.

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m Japanese,” Yuuri said, needlessly. “What’s your last name? ‘Nd how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-seven,” Victor admitted, indulging the small talk. “And my last name is Nikiforov. What about you?”

“Katsuki,” Yuuri mumbled, and Victor could hardly understand him. “I am tw…” Yuuri tapped his cheek, and tripped over a crack. Victor quickly steadied him, his heart jumping a little. “Oops!” Yuuri giggled. “I’m twenty-three.” He held up four fingers next to his face, and realized his mistake. Yuuri tried to put one finger down but ended up putting two down. He used his other hand to rectify this problem, manually moving the fingers on his right hand, and Victor had to muffle his own laughter in order to keep it quiet enough for the neighbourhood.

“It’s okay,” Victor laughed, patting Yuuri’s hand. “I get what you mean.”

Yuuri grinned up cheekily, and then his expression changed again. “Are you sure you don’t want to have sex with me?”

Victor nearly choked at the bluntness. Yuuri tried to wink, but instead he scrunched up his face in a strange way. Victor’s heart fluttered a little. “You’re too drunk,” he said, and then immediately regretted it. From experience, Victor knew that if you were drunk and someone told you that the only reason they wouldn’t sleep with your was how dunk you were, you wouldn’t like it. It was a valid reason, but when you’re drunk, it definitely didn’t seem like it.

“That is, that is okay,” Yuuri nodded, solemnly. “Sober me would want to fuck you too,” Victor burnt up at the way this was said, and even more so at the appraising eyes raking over him. “I promise I’m good in bed,” Yuuri said, smiling. This time it wasn’t a smirk, it was a bright, beautiful smile.

Victor ran a hand through his own hair, breathing slowly. Victor pulled the boy alongside him as they neared the apartment. “I believe you,” Victor said, and then internally chastised himself. “I mean, not tonight. I mean, I just can’t. You know?” Victor said, turning to look at Yuuri to see his reaction to the inarticulate words.

Yuuri pouted glumly, the expression oddly sexy under the streetlights. He looked up at Victor underneath his falling hair and sighed. “Okayyyy, fiiine.” Yuuri shot him a look. “You’re missing out, you know.”

Victor laughed through his red face. “Okay. Anyway, we’re here.”

Yuuri looked up in awe. “This is a big house.”

Victor laughed sharply, and Yuuri gave him a betrayed look. “Yuuri, it’s an apartment.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, “Well isss, it’s not my fault you look rich, so…” Smiling, Victor let Yuuri go to unlock the outer door, still nervous that he’d fall in the few seconds Victor wasn’t holding him. Nevertheless, Yuuri stayed standing, and Victor held open the door for him to walk through.

Yuuri found this difficult, so Victor grabbed his warm hand to lead him towards the elevators. “Hey, Victor,” Yuuri said, and Victor prepared himself for another onslaught of flirting.

“Mhm?”

“Why is your hair grey?” Yuuri asked.

Victor smiled, shrugging. “I don’t know. It just is.”

As the elevator dinged and they both climbed in, Yuuri narrowed his eyes at Victor. “Are you sure you’re twenty-seven?”

Victor pouted, ducking his head. “You’re mean,” he accused, but then Yuuri pushed him lightly on his shoulder with his free hand.

“Kidding,” Yuuri said, smiling and flashing a peace sign. He patted Victor’s shoulder again. “I think it’s pretty,” 

“Yeah,” Victor joked, to hide his slight embarrassment. “It’s ‘in’ these days.”

Yuuri reached up to run his fingers through the bangs hanging over Victor’s forehead, hand steady and touch surprisingly gentle in a contrast to the roughness of the rest of Yuuri’s movements. Not for the first time in the past 15 minutes, Victor felt his heart give a little shake.

When they reached their floor, Victor pulled Yuuri into the hallway, dragging him all the way to his apartment number. “My roommate Mila is probably sleeping, so try to be quiet,” Victor asked.

Yuuri frowned and Victor cocked an eyebrow at him. “You have a roommate?”

Victor nodded.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Yuuri asked, pouting comically. Victor laughed, slightly disbelieving at the level of flirt he was receiving.

“No, she’s not,” Victor said, tugging on Yuuri’s hand reassuringly, and wondering why he did so. 

Yuuri smiled cutely. “Okay,” he said softly, as Victor opened the door. “Wow, cool apartment!” Yuuri whispered, stumbling into Victor’s living room, running his hands over the jackets lined up on the wall. He fell into the back of the couch, knees collapsing. Yuuri caught himself with a giggle before he could slip all the way to the ground. Victor quickly shut the door and made to hold Yuuri up.

“Okay, let’s take your shoes off,” Victor said, trying to use one hand to hold Yuuri up and reaching the other one around. It wasn’t working very well as Yuuri’s butt gravitated towards the hardwood floors. Victor gave in and set him down as gently as possible, but it still drew a little ‘oof' from the smaller man. “Sorry,” Victor said, gently patting Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri shook his head. “It’s ‘kay.” Yuuri looked up at Victor as he rounded around him, with a huge smile. “I’m really drunk.”

Victor smiled. “That’s okay,” he placated, brushing Yuuri’s uncoordinated fingers off of his laces and untying his shoes for him. Victor lifted each sneaker off Yuuri’s feet, and then he stopped to blink at Yuuri’s socks. Victor stared.

Yuuri laughed, sticking one of his feet into Victor’s chest. “Don’t you think they’re cute?”

Victor chuckled, voice clearly winded, knowing his cheeks were dusted in pink. “Yeah. In fact, I’m wearing the same ones.” Victor stood, almost shakily, as Yuuri watched him, wide-eyed, and he slipped his feet out of his rubber boots. “See?”

Yuuri found this incredibly amusing, pulling the dog ear on Victor’s left foot. Yuuri laughed. “I got them at, mm, Winners, I think,” he grinned, and Victor nodded.

“Me too. On sale!” Victor shot finger guns at Yuuri, who pouted.

“Not me. Fuuuuuull price.” Yuuri tried to do finger guns and turn them into thumbs down, and Victor laughed at the absurdity. 

Victor shrugged his coat off, and walked around Yuuri, hanging it on the wall. Yuuri watched him as he knelt down to unwind his scarf from Yuuri’s neck.

“Wait, noooo,” Yuuri complained, wrapping his hands around the scarf and shoving Victor’s finger’s off. “I wanna keep it on, iss warm, ’n’ it smells nice.” Yuuri grabbed one end of it and shoved it in his nose, to illustrate this. Victor rolled his eyes.

“Okay then,” Victor stood and nodded down at Yuuri, still seated on the hardwood floor. Victor pursed his lips. “You should change out of your clothes,” Victor said, then smiled secretly at the absurdity of the buttoning.

Yuuri made that seductive face again, and though it shouldn’t be a surprise at this point, Victor still flushed at the half-lidded eyes. “So what, hm, you want to get me out of my clothes but you won’t sleep with me, hm? Why is—”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, exasperated. “Just because your clothes will be uncomfortable to sleep in,”

“I’m still pretty sure you doooooo wanna sleep with me, though,” Yuuri said, and Victor narrowed his eyes comically at him. Yuuri giggled, and Victor fought a smile.

“Come on, just take off your pants and shirt, I’ll go find you some pyjamas, okay?”

Yuuri nodded, pulling himself up by the back of the couch. Victor walked to help him navigate to the other side, and sat him down on the sheet that covered the cushions.

“Are you okay?” Victor asked, and Yuuri nodded, reaching to his dress shirt. Victor watched him struggle for 10 seconds with a button, eventually electing to just pull at either side of his shirt and hope it would come loose. Victor sighed, sitting on the couch next to Yuuri. “Alright, let me,” Victor smoothly unbuttoned Yuuri’s grey dress shirt, amazed that the man managed to sway even while sitting down.

Victor looked at Yuuri’s face, which was a mistake. He was eyeing Victor’s face and torso in an appraising, provocative way, thick cheekbones tinted red and pink tongue peeking out between his teeth. Yuuri licked his bottom lip gently and Victor felt a heavy stir deep in his stomach as Yuuri’s dark eyes caught his, and Yuuri’s mouth curved into a smug smile.

Victor shook his head before Yuuri could say anything, and Yuuri sighed, shrugging off his shirt when the last button was finished. “You’re no fun, Victor.”

Victor laughed, voice sounding thicker than he would have liked. “That’s what they tell me.” Victor helped Yuuri pull the shirt off his arms and he desperately tried not to look at Yuuri’s very compelling bare chest. “Okay, now your pants need to come off, and I need you to not try to seduce me in the process. Okay?”

Yuuri smiled, patting Victor’s thigh, and trying to edge his legs up onto the couch. “It’s not trying, because it’s _working_.”

“It’s not,” Victor lied, helping Yuuri pull his misplaced belt through the loops of his jeans. Victor pulled down on the fabric of Yuuri’s pants, and Yuuri tried to help by squirming. All it did was cause Victor’s cold fingers to brush over Yuuri’s solid thighs, which made the Japanese man shiver and made Victor burn up. “Stop moving,” Victor demanded, slipping Yuuri’s jeans over his feet.

When that was done, Victor smiled and tried to will away the thirst in his veins. “There. I’ll go get you pyjamas, okay?”

Yuuri whined, pushing himself up with his arms, with some difficulty. He leaned against the other edge of the couch. “Fiiiine. You have so much self control,” Yuuri said, glumly.

Victor smiled and patted Yuuri’s ankle, getting up. He wasn’t surprised to find that standing was as difficult for him as it seemed to be for Yuuri. He let out a long, silent breath on the way to his room.

As he was digging around in his drawers for a pair of PJ pants and a t-shirt that he could give Yuuri, Victor heard a little crash from outside his room. Victor rushed out to find Yuuri holding on to the wall where a side table stood, a plastic mug of pencils and such strewn on the floor. Yuuri made to pick them up but he noticed Victor standing there, and his eyes widened behind his glasses.

“I’m, I’m sorry,” Yuuri said, cheeks red and looking for all the world like he was guilty of much more than knocking over some pens. He tried to bend down but Victor laughed and grabbed his shoulders.

“It’s all okay, don’t worry. Why are you up?”

“I um, I wanted water,” Yuuri said, bashfully, looking down. “‘M sorry,” Yuuri said again, so Victor patted his cheek.

“Don’t worry, I can get you water. It’s just some pens. Go sit down,” Victor said, guiding Yuuri over to one of the seats on the kitchen. Yuuri twisted his hands as he watched Victor pick up the writing supplies.

Yuuri was quite a sight, sitting on a high kitchen chair kicking his dog-socked feet and wearing nothing else but some blue boxers, a thick beige scarf and crooked glasses. His mouth was pressed tightly together and his head bowed in shame.

“Yuuri,” Victor called, and the man looked up. “It’s okay,” he said, placing the pens back on the side table. Victor walked over to the kitchen and squeezed Yuuri’s shoulder, running the sink and filling a mug (one that Victor wasn’t too fond of, in case it got broken) with water. He placed it in front of Yuuri.

“Thank you, Victor,” Yuuri said, still a little subdued but smiling again. Victor grinned.

“Okay, now stay here while I get you some clothes.”

“‘M comfortable like this,” Yuuri said, as Victor walked away. 

Victor also grabbed some tylenol from his bathroom and a spare toothbrush and toothpaste, and for that reason plus the spare minute Victor took to wash his own face with very cold water, by the time he got back out to the kitchen Yuuri was leaning his head on the counter. Yuuri’s eyes blinked blearily and Victor’s heart squeezed a little. “Tired?” He asked, and Yuuri shook his head no. Or, as close to that as he could manage leaning on the countertop.

Victor smiled, holding up a black v-neck shirt. “Put this on.”

“Don’t wanna,” Yuuri said, head lifting up.

“You’ll be warmer,” Victor said. “I’ll help you.” He reached to unwind the scarf from Yuuri’s neck, despite the protests that warranted. “You can have it back when you’re wearing this shirt, okay?”

“Fine,” Yuuri said, letting his arms be guided into the holes in the shirt. Victor gently slid Yuuri’s glasses off his face in order to pull his head through. When Yuuri’s head popped out and he was blinking at Victor, he grinned. “You’re blurry,” Yuuri said, smiling, reaching out to touch Victor’s face. Victor’s jaw was barely grazed and yet it made his insides flutter.

“Okay,” Victor said. “Now pants.”

Yuuri shook his head. “Don’t wanna.” He reached for the scarf Victor had curled up on the countertop and shakily draped it around his shoulders.

“Yuuri,” Victor began, but Yuuri shook his head.

“I don’t like sleeping with pants on.” Yuuri pulled the end of the scarf to his nose and sniffed it. Just as Victor placed the remaining things in his hands on the counter, Yuuri reached and grabbed at the fabric at his chest, pulling Victor towards him.

Victor momentarily thought Yuuri was about to kiss him, and was both afraid and exhilarated by this prospect, but instead Yuuri just tucked his head into Victor’s neck, taking a deep breath. Victor tried very hard to hide anything that made him seem disappointed, and he also tried to angle it so Yuuri couldn’t possibly hear the hammering in his chest. “Did you know the scarf smells like you?” Yuuri asked, muffled into Victor’s neck. Victor was sure Yuuri could hear his heart now, anyway.

He patted Yuuri’s arms, stroking down the length of them and back up, pulling him off. Yuuri smiled, and Victor shakily matched him. “You don’t really have a filter, do you?” 

Yuuri shook his head. “Not when ‘m drunk.” Victor laughed, pulling a single packaged toothbrush out of his pile of things.

“Here, you should brush your teeth.” Victor contemplated the best way to do this, before slipping an arm around Yuuri’s waist and pulling him off the chair. They walked over to the kitchen sink, and Yuuri stood by while Victor put some toothpaste and water on the new brush. He handed it to Yuuri.

Yuuri did a moderate job of brushing, seeming to realize that Victor wasn’t going to let him go until every tooth had been reached. Victor rinsed the brush for him, and then looked back down at Yuuri. He looked good in black.

“Do you need to go to the washroom before you sleep?” Victor asked.

“Are you offering to take my pants off again?”

“Stop flirting with me,” Victor smiled, not really meaning it. But Yuuri just laughed, and then sighed.

“I can’t believe,” Yuuri hummed, leaning into Victor. “I finally met someone like you but ‘m too drunk.”

Victor ran a hand over Yuuri’s back, his heart beating heavily. “I understand that,” Victor said, finding that he meant it. Yuuri looked up at him with auburn eyes, and Victor could do little but stare back for at least 10 seconds. “So, um,” Victor said, finally. “Bathroom?”

Yuuri nodded. “Mhm. I think I can manage.” He began to walk, and then turned around bashfully, a little unsure in his steps. “But um, I-I don’t wanna break anything,”

Victor grinned and held Yuuri’s hand, guiding him slowly to the bathroom. “Here,” Victor held the door open for him and Yuuri walking inside, carefully. “Be careful,” Victor said. Yuuri nodded.

As he was closing the door, Yuuri mumbled in a small whisper: “He even has dog socks.”

Victor smiled absently, walking around to turn off various lights so it was more comfortable to sleep on the couch. While Yuuri was still in the bathroom, Victor sat on one of the kitchen stools and tried not to have a crisis. He massaged his chest, and ran his hand over his neck as if that could stop the tingling where Yuuri had breathed that comment about his scarf.

Victor gulped the rest of Yuuri’s water, and then rounded the bar in oder to fill the mug up again.

Yuuri opened the door, face dripping, and he gripped the frame while using Victor’s shirt to wipe off his cheeks. Victor walked over to him. “Need some help?”

“Not sure,” Yuuri said, padding over to the couch. Yuuri managed, stumbling a few times but Victor steadied him when he did. Yuuri flopped down onto the couch, rubbing the ball of his hand across his eyes. “Guess ‘m good.”

Victor walked briskly back to the kitchen and snatched the water mug and tylenol bottle, setting them on the side table. Where, he realized, he’d already put a glass of water. Victor scratched his head awkwardly. Yuuri kicked the bucket next to the couch. “Is this for if I throw up?”

Victor laughed a little. “Good catch. I have a nice carpet, you see.” Victor ran his socks over the white rug.

Yuuri smiled cutely. “I feel okay right now but, m, maybe later.” Yuuri pouted. “‘Cept ‘m really tired.”

Victor nodded, drawing the spare duvet out from underneath the coffee table. “Lie down,” Victor said, and Yuuri turned pink but complied, setting his head down on the pillow. Victor pulled the duvet over him, making sure Yuuri’s feet were covered and tucking the blanket in just slightly all around the man. “Comfy?” Victor asked, and Yuuri nodded.

Victor looked back at his socks, and sat down on the coffee table. “Do you like dogs?” He asked, but he already new the answer. Yuuri nodded again, more fervently. “I have a poodle. She’s not here right now, but I thought that would be interesting to you.”

Yuuri smiled so wide that his eyes disappeared. “Poodles are my faaaaavourite!”

Victor laughed, and reach down to grab Yuuri’s pants still lying on the ground, prodding the pockets for his phone. It was dead, and it was a Samsung, so Victor didn’t have a charger for it. “Come get me if you need anything,” Victor said, pointing at his room.

Yuuri looked slowly in that direction, before realizing the back of the couch was in the way. He looked back with a twinkle in his eye and Victor sighed again. “If you _really_ need anything. Not if you’re going to proposition me again.”

Yuuri pouted, blinking tiredly. “Maybe, hm, maybe when, in the morning. Or when ‘m sober. Then you’ll sleep with me?”

Victor didn’t know how to answer that, his face red and his hand running in his hair. “I’m not sure. I think I’d like to get to know you first,” Victor added softly. “I mean, without alcohol.” Victor ducked his head shyly. That was more honest than he was going for.

Yuuri nodded thoughtfully. “Mkay. That sounds really nice.” A smile.

Victor patted Yuuri underneath the duvet. “I’ll see you in the morning then. Okay?”

Yuuri nodded. “Can you turn this ligh’ off?”

“I was going to,” Victor assured, looking up at the soft light. “Goodnight,” Victor said, standing up and reaching to switch off the night.

“G’night Victor Nifi…foro…korv.” Yuuri tried.

Victor laughed to the dark room. “Goodnight Yuuri Katsuki.”

“You got it right!” Yuuri said, gleefully, as Victor padded off to his own bedroom.

“Night, Yuuri.” Victor smiled again, turning into his room. His light was off, except for the one he had turned on when Yurio called him earlier that night. Victor looked at the clock. It was barely an hour ago that Victor got that stupid call but it felt like an age.

Victor slowly climbed into his bed, silently switching off the light and pulling his duvet over his body. The entire house was silent, just as it had been an hour ago, but Victor was painfully aware of the Japanese man sleeping on his couch. He blinked into the dark room, and then quickly rolled over and shoved his face into his pillow.

This is all it took, apparently, to shake Victor Nikiforov to his core. 45 minutes and some matching dog socks later, Victor is ridiculously infatuated with a shitfaced Japanese man sleeping in his living room. Victor pulled his hands up to his pillow and ran his palms over his face, curling up in his bed.

There was no guarantee of anything when Yuuri Katsuki woke up. Maybe he would remember how he made moves about ten times on his exorbitantly flustered host or maybe he wouldn’t even remember how he got there. Maybe he would be a huge asshole, maybe he wouldn’t even be able to look Victor in the eye. Maybe he meant it, when he said he’d like to get to know Victor. Maybe that was just his dick talking. Who knows? Victor didn’t.

That didn’t change the fact that Victor’s easy ass was lying in his bed, eyes wide and heart fluttering in some type of way, the soft whisper of “he even has dog socks” on replay in his head. Victor turned the other way in his bed, looking at the phone tucked under his pillow. He wasn’t entirely sure why he always did things for the angry fifteen-year-old fate made him want to protect, but he was damn glad that was the way it was.

It didn’t matter, Victor thought. Whatever this whole Yuuri Katsuki situation was. Whether or not any of it meant anything. Because he was going to try. Victor didn’t _like_ to try for these kinds of things, he didn’t have time for any of that stuff, but this time his only choice was to try.

Tonight was Yuuri Katsuki’s turn to lay it on thick. Tomorrow… it was Victor’s.


	2. Good Morning, Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri wakes up, and he doesn't remember last night. Well... he remembers some things. Pole dancing, stumbling into a train station, and a... flash of pretty silver hair? Wait, whose flat is this?
> 
> A continuation due to popular demand (thanks, guys).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you weirdos kept asking for a continuation so I gave you one. It will probably be 5 chapters. I can't believe y'all made me do this, I'm going to fail all of my classes. JK. Thank you so much for the comments :')
> 
> Edited by the lovely TN_Night.

…And his phone was dead. Great. Yuuri stared in horror at the device in his hand, desperately clicking the home button over and over again, uselessly.

The room he was in was dark; through the curtains in front of him, he could vaguely see the early-morning sunrise casting a mauve light on his surroundings. There was a big flat-screen TV, an ultra-modern coffee table, a desk, some flowers. So… it was a living room. 

Yuuri sat up unsteadily from where he lay — a surprisingly comfy grey couch. He couldn’t see well, but the shape of his glasses called to him from a side table, and he placed them on the bridge of his nose. He slowly peered over the top of the couch. There was a kitchen behind him, a few doors on either side of the room, and a hallway. A warm light over the stove was the only colour in the darkness. What the hell was he doing here?!

Yuuri lay back down and tried to think things through logically. It was terribly difficult, with every thick beat of his blood pounding against the inside of his head. He brought his hands up to his face, one of them still cradling his phone, and pressed them sharply against his eyes under his glasses. He then curled up and let out a little whine.

This was the mother of all hangovers. Every hangover he’d ever had; they were all small, cuddly teddy bears compared to this one. Yuuri dragged his hands down his face, groaning. His stomach felt weak and his shoulders ached. His thighs ached. His feet hurt even more. The mother of all hangovers, of course, meant that Yuuri had undoubtedly done some extremely stupid stuff the night before.

Yuuri took a deep breath into the silence of the room before he could scream in horror. He should leave the screaming for after he figured out what shenanigans he’d gotten into this time.

Okay, so he remembered parts of last night. He remembered meeting Christophe Giacometti, the owner of the club he’d gone to. He wasn’t too drunk at that point, sipping slowly on a… what was it? It had rum in it, for sure. Yuuri rolled his eyes through the pain. Of course it had rum. Rum always got him good.

He was still waiting for Phichit at that point, before he’d gotten the text his asshole best friend had sent him about being too sick to go out. “ _Meet somebody, hotshot ;)”_ he’d written. Yuuri remembered glaring at his phone in disbelief.

He’d met Chris, but he was sure that wasn’t what Phichit had meant. He wanted nothing to do with Chris. The slutty European man was a bit too much for Yuuri to handle. He was very nice, though; bought drinks for the table near Yuuri’s, and for Yuuri, too. That’s how they got to talking.

Yuuri rubbed his eyes again, catching sight of the black t-shirt he was in. Whose shirt was that?! Wait. Don’t panic yet. Focus on what the hell happened.

Yes, Chris was very nice. He introduced him to the table of friends next to him, and gave him a glass. Yuuri tried to remember remember what it was, and unfortunately, he couldn’t. More unfortunately, he thinks it was a triple. Chris talked a lot, but eventually he ran off to the pole to demonstrate his skills.

Yuuri’s eyes shot open in the dark. “No,” he whispered, his voice sounding sick, “There wasn’t a pole. Oh god…” Yuuri curled up again. Without a doubt, if there had been pole, he had ended up on it. This explained the dull pain in his thighs.

Yuuri looked around again. On the table beside him, there was a tall glass and a small mug, both filled with water. Yuuri thanked the Gods — well, he wasn’t sure who to thank yet. He sat up, shaking a little, wrapping his hands around the glass and bringing it to his mouth.

Yuuri got halfway through the glass of water when an image popped up behind his eyes. The low light of a train station, some Russian accents, and the feeling of a warm arm around his torso.

Yuuri blinked, lips still closed around the rim of the glass. He closed his eyes again, trying to find it.

Yeah, there were two Russians arguing. A tiny blonde kid, whom Yuuri immediately recognized as one of Chris’ friends (why was _he_ at a bar? He was, what, twelve?!). And a tall man with silver hair and stunning cheekbones and icy blue eyes. It was _his_ arm Yuuri could feel around him, his cream-coloured scarf tickling Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri felt some colour start to spread over his face. Who was that? He hadn’t been at the bar. Had he? Yuuri tried to think back to the blurry and traumatizing moments on the dance floor. He saw a bunch of things — Chris’ hand on his ass and a dark-haired young man telling him it was inappropriate (thanks, dude); a pretty girl pulling her tight crop-top off in the middle of the floor; a suave-looking man bragging incessantly as he helped Yuuri tie his own necktie around his head — but he didn’t see the silver-haired guy.

For some reason the image of him made Yuuri’s heart jump a little. Had they made out or something? Yuuri hoped not — he liked to remember that sort of thing. 

He set his glass back down on the table, sitting up slowly. He was relieved to see that his bare legs looked mostly unscathed. Yuuri clicked the home button on his phone again, in vain. He would’ve very much liked to text Phichit and tell him he had no idea where he was.

Yuuri looked down at his feet. There was a stir in his chest and he furrowed his eyebrows, wiggling his toes. There was something about… oh.

Yuuri stared at his dog socks as a lot of the night came back to him, and quickly. The Russian man — the one that wasn’t an emo teen — walking him somewhere. God, he was good-looking. Yuuri saw a small flush on the man’s nose, and he remembered saying something like “have sex with me.” Yuuri groaned and pressed his eyes again. _Naturally._

That would explain whose house he was in. How that happened, Yuuri didn’t know. But he did know that the Russian man had the same socks as him, for some reason. Yuuri remembered very little regarding the circumstance of the night. However, he did manage to remember tiny, insignificant details. He could see the exact colour of the man’s eyes, a brief image of his hand ruffling his hair, and an intoxicating whiff of this man’s scent lingering on his scarf. He remembered a very pretty smile that made Yuuri’s heart flutter.

Yuuri looked at his pillow — the man’s scarf was still there. He picked it up absent-mindedly, bringing it to his face. It still smelled nice. He turned bright red and shoved his face in the scarf.

“Why am I like this?” he whispered to himself, muffled by the fabric, annoyed by his inability to get any information about what actually went down the night before.

Yuuri looked up. He couldn’t just stay like this! He whipped his head back, ignoring the stabbing pain that the action caused, eyes widening at the doors behind him. The hot Russian guy was behind one of those doors! Yuuri made a tortured sound. He was getting the _fuck_ out of there.

Yuuri stood up, willing the nausea deep in his stomach to calm the fuck down. He didn’t exactly know where he was, but he knew it was close to a train station. He picked up his pants, his shirt, his tie… and then carefully put them back down on the sofa. Blushing, though no one was around, Yuuri pulled the soft black shirt over his pounding head and quickly replaced it with his dress shirt. It smelled horrible, like sweat and alcohol. One of the buttons was broken. Yuuri made a face, bashfully pulling himself into his pants. He just shoved his tie into his pocket.

Once dressed, Yuuri folded everything; the t-shirt, the comforter, even the sheet laid over the couch. Spotting the Tylenol placed on the side-table, and considering that he had embarrassed himself enough by now anyway, he swallowed the medicine with the water sitting in the mug.

Yuuri made towards the door. It was dark, but he could make out his shoes on the floor, so he quickly slipped them on his feet. On the wall in the hallway, there was a picture of the Russian man… and he was so fucking gorgeous. It was comforting to Yuuri to know that he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing; and also that even wasted, he had good taste in men. Yuuri whimpered, feeling over the rack of coats for his jacket.

It was tweed, easy to feel, and he picked up the one that he thought might be his. It wasn’t, though. It was a woman’s jacket, in a creamy blue.

Did a girl live here? Yuuri looked back at the doors, feeling a quick burst of shame in his gut. Of course he would, of _course_ , proposition an attached, straight guy. Yuuri groaned, hanging the coat back up on the wall. He felt disappointed, and cursed himself for it; it wasn’t like he was going to see the guy again! He frowned and, despite feeling very sad and like he was going to die of internal pain, continued searching for his jacket. He couldn’t find it.

Yuuri vaguely remembered being very cold last night. He’d probably left his jacket somewhere… along with his wallet and everything else, as he would. He had a vision of the hot guy wrapping his scarf around Yuuri’s neck while they were outside, and another time Yuuri was wearing it indoors. The silver-haired man was standing in front of him, and Yuuri remembered grabbing him and pulling him into a hug. His arms were strong and comforting and his heart — Yuuri remembered clearly — was beating heavily against Yuuri’s ears. The man’s face was flushed and his eyebrows were bunched in concern, his hands patting all over Yuuri.

Through the intense shame and embarrassment Yuuri felt, he was also aware that these weren’t likely the actions of a straight guy. Yuuri considered this, eyeing the blue coat. Whatever, it didn’t matter.

He walked towards the door, his heart feeling a little shaky (and not just because of the hangover). He eyed the picture again, where the guy ( _what_ was his _name_?) was posing with a large, goofy-looking dog. Yuuri smiled ruefully. Of course, it was a fucking poodle. This man was meant to ruin him.

Yuuri was about to open the door. Really, he had his hand on the doorknob. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He had an idea. It was a bad one.

“I’m crazy,” he whispered to himself. “I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t do anything that Phichit would be proud of.” Yuuri stood there, considering, and then he cursed it and walked back into the apartment.

He looked around frantically for something paper before he could change his mind. All he found was a stack of Christmas napkins on the marble countertop. Deeming this good enough, he shuffled as quietly as possible over to the cup of pens sitting on a small table. He grabbed one, clicked the end of it, and walked over to the counter.

Hastily, he wrote:

_Hi, I don’t know anything about you really because I don’t remember last night. I want to say I’m very sorry. I remember a little bit, and this is really stupid of me. Please ignore me if you want, it’s just a small thought, but I remember —_

Yuuri took the breath he was holding, and then squeezed his eyes shut tight. He considered just ripping the napkin up, but he would never forgive himself if he did. So he continued.

_— you being really cute and I know this is weird but if you’re not taken, and if you want to call me my number is 778 362 8403. I’m sorry for everything and thank you for making sure i didn’t die. My name is Yuuri. Thank you_

He didn’t even bother to punctuate the last word. He just pushed the napkin into the middle of the counter, closed the pen, put it back, and all but ran to the exit. After figuring out the lock and opening the door (it creaked conspicuously, much to Yuuri’s chagrin), he left the apartment. 

Yuuri took a deep breath as he entered the elevator. The movement turned his stomach, making him cringe until the doors slid open for the bottom floor. He glanced down self-consciously. He looked like a mess.

There was doorman sitting there at his desk, and the bright lights in the lobby made Yuuri’s headache worse; evidently, the Tylenol hadn’t kicked in yet. The apartment looked quite affluent, to Yuuri’s embarrassment. The man eyed Yuuri curiously as he stayed still near the exit of the elevator. Yuuri flushed and gave a little bow, shuffling forward and clearing his throat.

“I was wondering if you know what time it is?” Yuuri asked, quietly. The doorman didn’t even laugh as he looked at his watch. Maybe he dealt with this sort of thing on a regular basis. 

“It’s quarter to eight.”

Yuuri looked up in surprise, eyeing the dim morning light. Of course, it was winter, so it really wasn’t that surprising. Still, Yuuri thanked his luck that the owner of the flat he’d woken up in wasn’t an early riser. “Thank you,” Yuuri said, bowing again. “Have a nice day,” he mumbled, shuffling towards the door.

It was snowing outside. Yuuri grimaced, the material of his shirt already feeling thin on his arms. He turned back slowly. “Do you know which way the train station is?”

The doorman gestured behind him loosely. “It’s just that way. I suggest walking to the end of this street,” he gestured, “and turn down Clawhorn. You’ll get to the station easily.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, gratefully. He turned towards the door.

“Would you like me to call a cab?” The doorman called, and Yuuri looked back to see him eyeing Yuuri’s inappropriate attire cautiously. The idea sounded wonderful, but unfortunately, Yuuri was painfully aware that his wallet was somewhere far from his person. He smiled ruefully.

“No, thank you.” He turned and exited, the chill of the cool winter air going straight to his bones the moment he stepped outside. He shivered in peace as soon as he was out of the view of the doorman.

Yuuri chattered in complete discomfort all the way to the station, hating his life immensely. At least it was an easy walk, and he didn’t get lost. Yuuri noticed with a bit of surprise that the train station was Yellowridge-Tenth Avenue. Suddenly, he knew where he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading haha. Next one coming in the next few weeks. Comment if you liked it, it's my lifeblood. Poor Yuuri :)


	3. Good Morning Phichit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri doesn't know how to tell Phichit that he's starstruck over a guy he doesn't remember.

It was a horrible trip home, and it felt longer than it was. However, Yuuri was happy to find his fare card in his back pocket, and it was only two train stops and a five-minute walk back to his place. Luckily, the first person he saw when he walked in the door was the first person he wanted to see. In fact, it was this person’s presence that made it possible for Yuuri to even get into this apartment, for his keys were lost.

Phichit opened the door with a concerned expression and a slack jaw, his phone held limp in the hand that wasn’t gripping the door. “Yuuri!” he said, first in shock, and then his expression turned to happiness.

Yuuri all but collapsed onto him, and Phichit dragged him into the flat, setting him down on the couch. Phichit began explaining everything loudly, and Yuuri tucked his head firmly into the coach cushions, trying minimize the ringing in his ears.

“Oh my gosh, Yuuri, I was so worried about you! I’m always worried about you. I called Chris and asked him what happened to you and he said he didn’t know except for that you got wasted and you pole danced, which honestly doesn’t shock me,”

Yuuri groaned.

“And then he said he remembers two of his friends dragging you off but he said he wasn’t worried ‘cause they were good ki—”

“Wait,” Yuuri interrupted, a whine in his tone. “You know him? Christophe?” His voice was muffled in the fuzzy, heart-shaped pillow Phichit had been given last Christmas.

“Yeah, idiot. That’s why I said we had to go to his club.” Phichit spoke as though he hadn’t left Yuuri alone at said club. “He was a guest speaker at one of my classes. Don’t you remember that?” Phichit sat down on the couch, next to Yuuri’s butt.

“No,” Yuuri mumbled. His hair stuck up in a cowlick at the back, prompting Phichit to poke at his head.

“Do you even listen to anything I say?” Phichit asked, and Yuuri dragged his hand up to pull his glasses from the uncomfortable position where they were, squishing into his face.

“No,” Yuuri answered, earning him a completely unnecessary flick on the head.

“You’re such a mess. Who even were the guys you left with?” Phichit tapped his iPhone against his knee curiously. Yuuri was still buried in the pillows, looking for all the world like he was having some sort of crisis.

“Dunno,” Yuuri replied, honestly. He just wanted to sleep.

“Oh, gosh,” Yuuri heard Phichit say. He looked up with blurry eyes to see his friend stretching with a snicker, leaning back against him. “It was one of _those_ nights, huh?” The sun from the window illuminated the dust floating between them, and Yuuri could only see Phichit’s smile vaguely in the faded light.

Yuuri whimpered just a bit and his friend looked at him, reaching over to pinch his cheek between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s okay. What do you remember?”

Yuuri looked at Phichit for a few seconds, and his gaze wandered to the glasses hanging from his fingers. “I think it’s a long story.”

 

Phichit and Yuuri ended up sitting on the couch together, both of them eating instant noodles because one was sick and the other was hungover. Yuuri was wearing pyjamas and a jumper, but his hair was still a mess. They had their bowls on the messy coffee table, resting upon stacked books and loose papers. “Okay, start,” Phichit demanded, through wet noodle-eating sounds.

“I woke up in an apartment I didn’t recognize,” Yuuri admitted. He figured he should just get as much of the story out as quickly as possible. “But it belonged to a really hot Russian guy. He wasn’t at the club though.” Yuuri looked over at Phichit. His artful eyebrows were high on his forehead and his noodles had dropped back into his bowl. 

 _“Excuse me? What?”_ Phichit nearly choked, and Yuuri’s face burned a deep red. He sipped the beef broth in his spoon slowly, looking straight ahead, knowing exactly the kinds of things Phichit was thinking.

“I don’t really remember what happened, but I know another Russian guy, a really… angry kid, brought me to him. At Yellowridge station, I think. And then I went back with the man. He had silver hair,” Yuuri said.

“Silver hair?!” Phichit yelled, and Yuuri grimaced at having released such unnecessary information. “Was he an old man? Oh my god, Yuuri! You slept with an old man?!” 

“No!” Yuuri said, flicking his chopsticks wildly at his friend. A drop of broth landed on Phichit’s nose, making it scrunch up as he laughed. “We- we didn’t sleep together! And he wasn’t an old man! I think… I don’t know how old he was, but not much older than me, I’m sure.” Yuuri racked his brain trying to remember, but Phichit interrupted his train of thought.

“How do you know you didn’t sleep together?” He made a suggestive face, something all too common for him.

Yuuri glared, eyes unimpressed behind his glasses. “I just do.”

Phichit laughed, dimples creasing in his cheeks as he wiped the stray droplets of noodle broth from his face with the back of his hand. “Okay, so what else?”

Yuuri sat back. “Well, I…” in his peripheral vision, Phichit looked thrilled and expectant, and Yuuri’s face grew even more bashful. “When I woke up I didn’t remember much, but I did remember him a lot, so I… I left him a note.” Yuuri looked into his soup like it was far more interesting than anything else in the room.

“You left him your number?” Phichit’s voice sounded exactly as expected; ecstatic. Yuuri heard him clap his hands together in glee.

Yuuri nodded shyly. “It was probably stupid,” he made a face, turning to Phichit, remembering the coat. “I think a girl lived there…”

“Oh my gosh, I am _so_ proud of you!” Phichit gushed, ignoring the last part, putting his utensils into the soup on the table. He clumsily fell over onto Yuuri, wrapping his arms around his friend tightly.

Yuuri cringed. “You being proud of me is exactly what I was afraid of,” he mumbled. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling the strands tighter as his thoughts drifted farther and farther away. “Ugh, he’s not gonna call me. I was probably so embarrassing. I think I asked him to sleep with me.”

Phichit giggled, obviously, not seeing a problem with any of this. He untangled himself from Yuuri. “This is the best news I’ve ever heard. And that’s a good thing! Everyone likes a guy who’s a little forward.”

“Not _that_ forward!” Yuuri argued, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. Phichit snickered. “He’s probably straight. I mean, he might… I don’t know. I might have it all wrong.”

“Have _what_ all wrong?” 

Yuuri bit his lip. “I don’t know,” he said, and intended to stop there, but Phichit kept staring at him. “I-I get the feeling like… like he was interested in me? Or would be? I don’t know, that’s stupid… especially since he didn’t even get to see the real m—”

“Yuuri, you have no confidence when you’re not drunk or angry,” Phichit said, matter-of-fact. “If you can wake up in some guy’s house after getting wasted and think he might be into you, he probably is.”

Yuuri made a face, and then dragged his hands down it slowly. “I feel like shit,” he said, frankly. It was true; there was still a dull pounding in his head and even though the ramen was helping a little bit, his stomach was still weak. And he was exhausted.

Phichit laughed. “I’m so excited. This is like the start of a Korean drama.”

“No, it’s not,” Yuuri said, “No Korean drama starts like this. Seriously.”

“Thai dramas start like this,” Phichit answered, thinking back to the many dramas he’d seen (and there were a lot). “Maybe it’s a Thai drama.”

Yuuri made a noise. “Thai dramas are just glorified pornos!” 

Phichit smacked him on the head. “That’s racist!” He giggled, catching sight of Yuuri’s small, teasing smile as he massaged the place his friend had hit him.

Yuuri smiled again. “No, it’s true.” Almost as quickly, his face fell back into gloom. “I lost my jacket.” He flopped back on the couch, placing his feet on the top of the coffee table, around his bowl of noodles.

“Chris says he has it!” Phichit remembered, snapping his fingers. “I forgot to tell you.” Yuuri’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked happy for the first time that whole morning.

“Really? That’s great news! Thank you.” Yuuri patted his thighs, “My keys and wallet are in there.”

Phichit coughed, a great hacking sound, urging concerned eyes to turn towards him. Quickly, though, he regained himself, patting his chest. “Do you work today?”

Yuuri shook his head, thanking Yuuko for this tiny fact. “No, I just have to write a paper. I hope I can concentrate,” he added. It was for interpersonal communication management, too. A hell of a course. Thinking about what he might have done the previous night did nothing to help set his mind into an academic mode, either.

“What was your hot dude’s name?” Phichit asked, leaning towards the table to shove more noodles into his mouth.

Yuuri frowned. “I have no idea,” he mumbled. It was a sharp-sounding name, for sure, but what was it? “I mean, it’s on the tip of my tongue… but I don’t know.” He sighed, slouching down into the couch even further. “I feel so stupid. I’m sure I made a fool of myself last night, but for some reason I feel like meeting him was lots of fun.”

Phichit grabbed his phone, typing in a few things with determination as Yuuri watched on inattentively. “Was his name… Abram?” Phichit raised his eyebrows expectantly. Yuuri made a face.

“No…?”

“Alexander?”

“No, Phichit.”

“Alexei?”

“No, Phi— are you just reading out Russian names?”

Phichit nodded, handing the phone over to Yuuri. “Do any of these sound familiar?”

Yuuri took the phone, sighing, thinking it might be a good idea to humour his friend. He scrolled down as Phichit loudly slurped on his noodles.

After a minute, Yuuri cleared his throat. “It was Victor,” he said, with surprise, feeling heat rise to his face as he said it out loud. “I’m pretty sure his name was Victor. Wow,” Yuuri laughed a little, “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

He looked over at Phichit’s face, who looked like Christmas had come early. Phichit took back his own phone quickly, and Yuuri realized with a groan that his friend was going to employ his masterful Facebook stalking skills. Yuuri sighed, and with the heat of the noodles, he was suddenly hit with a strong wave of tiredness.

“Phi, I’m gonna go take a nap.” He made no motion to move, feeling too exhausted to do so.

Phichit looked up. “Sure.” Yuuri nodded and finally pushed himself off the couch. The floor was too cold to be missing socks. He turned to wave goodbye, and something in his face made Phichit pat his leg with warm hands. “Feel better!” Phichit smiled, shooting a thumbs-up at Yuuri before turning back to his mission.

Yuuri gave him a grateful look. “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope u like this one guys, once again edited by TN_Night. IK it's short but bear with me


	4. Good Afternoon... Victor?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri wakes up feeling better. Extra better when he checks his phone... good thing Phichit is there to help him with his less-than-satisfactory social skills.

Yuuri awoke from his nap feeling a thousand times better. At first, he didn’t know if anything in particular had woken him. His room was still dark, aside from the the light bleeding through the curtains. The phone on the bed next to him made a noise, and it occurred to Yuuri that he was probably stirred from his sleep by the constant bombardment of notifications he was getting. His phone was charged, finally, and it looked like everyone in the world wanted his attention at that particular moment.

Yuuri took a moment to yawn and push his hair back out of his face before he grabbed the phone. He stretched underneath his blankets, blinking surprisedly at the time — it was already half past noon. He scrolled down his lock screen.

He had friend requests from Christophe Giacometti and someone named Jean-Jacque Leroy. Yuuri didn’t know who Jean-Jacque Leroy was, but he was willing to bet that Jean-Jacque Leroy knew who he was. Yuuri sighed. After the hangover was gone, it was a lot easier to settle with the fact that he was a seriously wild drunk. He’d played this game many times in his life, of trying to guess who everyone who contacted him was in the morning. Every time, Yuuri convinced himself he wouldn’t drink anymore, but it always happened anyway.

He had over thirty messages from a project group from school, which he ignored, and a message from Yuuko asking if he was alright. There were also messages from Phichit and — oh!

 

_dude I found it!_

_it took me forever cuz the guy’s name is spelt victor_

_not Viktor_

_idk why_

_but fuck he’s hot! omg score_

_he’s friends with chris, i think they’re pre close_

 

Then, there was an attached link to a Facebook profile. Yuuri stared at it, wondering if he should open the message. Of course, with zero self-control in the face of Phichit’s stalking obsession, he was about to, until he saw something else. It was a text notification from an unknown number. 

Yuuri opened it, looking at the message. It was simple:

 

_Good morning Yuri!_

 

Yuuri closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. It couldn’t really be from him. It was probably someone else he’d given his number to in the midst of his drunken stupor. Or maybe one of his friends had changed their number. Yuuri, nervous anyway, typed his reply.

 

_Good morning… who is this?_

 

Yuuri waited thirty seconds for a reply, and when it didn’t come, he put the phone down to his side so he didn’t stress over it. It didn’t totally work, but as soon as Yuuri climbed out of bed to draw the curtains his text tone sounded. Yuuri forced himself to do what he set out to do first before he dove back onto his bed and snagged his phone.

 

_Did you leave your number for more than one man this morning? :)_

 

Yuuri curled up in bed, while part of him died and another part blushed profusely. Yuuri wondered if it could be someone else besides Victor, but truly, he really only left his number for one man this morning. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? He decided to go for honesty. It took him a few tries to type something decent.

 

_I am so sorry for last night. I don’t know what I did but I’m sure it was terrible. I’m so sorry._

 

Yuuri turned and groaned into his bed, kicking his legs against the sheets.

 

_Terrible isn’t the word I would use, personally._

_How are you feeling?_

 

Yuuri sat up, not believing this. He was flirting. This guy was totally fucking flirting with him. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe instead of terrible, he would’ve agreed to “horrible” or “disastrous” or “inflicting copious amounts of second-hand embarrassment unto everyone in the vicinity.” Yuuri bit the nail of his ring finger.

 

_I feel a lot better after having a nap… this morning I felt awful_

_Not terrible? How about horrible? What did I do?_

_Actually I’m not sure I want to know._

 

Yuuri got out of bed, unplugging his phone and slipping his glasses onto his face. He waddled out of the room in his pyjama pants and jumper, hoping to see Phichit still sitting in the living room. He wasn’t. Yuuri looked around frantically as the phone in his hand dinged again.

 

_You repeatedly asked me to sleep with you_

 

Yuuri screamed a little bit, covering his mouth, feeling like a cat that had been drenched in water. He knew he’d asked _once_! Not over and over! Victor continued:

 

_It was not terrible. It was very hard to resist :)_

_But I don’t think it’s good to sleep with drunk people._

 

Yuuri smacked a hand to his forehead. He quickly walked over to Phichit’s room, banging on the door. The hollow sound echoed but there was no answer, and Yuuri gave up on trying to be nice to his friend. He opened the door to see Phichit passed out, face down on his bed, surrounded by a lot of stuffed animals and a half-open laptop. Yuuri all but ran over and jumped beside him, stuffed animals jostling and Phichit’s silky hair bouncing with the movement. He shook Phichit’s shoulders.

“Phichit! Phi, I need help.”

Phichit groaned, already groggily awake from being bounced around so harshly. He edged up on his elbows, turning to look at Yuuri, eyes disoriented and expression puzzled. “What?” His voice came out in a croak.

“Phichit, I need help!” Yuuri said, ignoring the obviously unwell state of his friend. Yuuri waved his hands, not knowing where to put them, and ended up accidentally tossing his phone into Phichit’s lap. “He’s texting me! What do I say?”

Phichit looked down at the phone confusedly, but he sat up, seeming to catch Yuuri’s urgent tone. “Oh really?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding Yuuri’s phone. “Let me see.” Phichit’s tired eyes widened as he read through the texts. “Yuuri, wow!”

Yuuri made a strangled sort of noise, covering his mouth with his palm. Phichit grinned at the wide eyes fixed upon him. Yuuri squeezed his own face. “I’m so… embarrassed?”

Phichit reached to pat Yuuri’s leg, tangled as he sat on the bed. “Obviously, you don’t need to be!” he said, smoothing down his hair and making room for Yuuri amongst his pillows. “Go on, send him a reply!” Phichit pushed himself up to the headboard, leaning on a stuffed polar bear as he passed Yuuri’s phone back.

“Saying what!?” Yuuri squeaked, looking down at the device in his hands. He shuffled around so he was slightly more comfortable, eyeing his own cellphone like it was going to hurt him somehow. Every time he reread the texts, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach.

Phichit laughed. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? I don’t think you can scare him away at this point.” He patted his face discreetly, trying to further wake himself.

Yuuri took on a determined expression, typing with shaky hands. Phichit moved to look over his shoulder.

 

_Agh I’m sorry!!! I get really crazy when I’m drunk!!_

 

Yuuri sent it and Phichit shot him a look. “That doesn’t sound very flirty.”

Yuuri looked at his friend, blushing. “You said it didn’t matter!” He quickly looked back at his phone. “Was it the wrong thing?” He looked panicked. “Should I add something else?”

“No, no,” Phichit said, raising a hand to rub Yuuri’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s okay. Let’s wait and see.” Fortunately for Yuuri’s mental state, the reply came quickly.

 

_It’s okay!_

_Were you drunk when you left me your number, or was that a sober decision?_

 

Phichit made a squealing noise, and despite being bedridden with the flu, he shoved Yuuri’s shoulders in glee. Yuuri payed him no mind, racking his brain for what to say. However, Victor beat him to it.

 

_Because if you like, I can explain what happened, if you’d like to meet me for coffee?_

_I thought you were cute and very funny_

 

“Yuuri!” Phichit exclaimed loudly, “You have got _game_ , my boy!”

Yuuri looked up in a daze, phone slightly limp in his hands. “What? Is he serious?”

“No, I think he’s joking.” Phichit said, flatly. Yuuri just appraised him for a few seconds, trying to make sense of his sarcasm. Phichit rolled his eyes. “Of course he’s serious. Oh, and he sounds nice!” Phichit clapped his hands. “This is so exciting!” He squeezed Yuuri tightly as the Japanese boy just sat there staring at his phone. Yuuri’s face grew increasingly wary.

“Oh my gosh, he probably thinks I’m cool,” Yuuri said, dismally. “I’m not funny when I’m sober!” He slumped against the headboard, eyebrows tight with worry.

“Really?” Phichit said, sharply. “Because right now, you make me want to laugh.” Yuuri looked over at his glaring face.

“What?” Yuuri said, defensively. 

“Don’t you be all negative about this!” Phichit shoved a finger in Yuuri’s face before it was swatted away. “Unless he’s an asshole, there is no way for this to go wrong.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to argue, but Phichit’s face told him it was not a wise idea. Yuuri sighed, typing as his heart ran laps inside his chest. This was probably not good for him.

 

_I’m afraid I might be quite different than drunk me…_

_But it was a sober decision!_

_So sure! I would like that_

 

Phichit grumbled when he sent the first text, but seemed to be satisfied with the following ones. Yuuri looked up, face twisted in a weird way. “What if I’m reading this wrong?”

Phichit rolled his eyes so hard that they nearly disappeared completely behind his eyelids. “Remember what we said about second-guessing things because of anxiety?”

Yuuri sighed. “Fine.” Then his eyes widened. “Oh my god, I’m going for coffee with him!” Yuuri’s jaw fell. “He’s Russian!”

Phichit laughed so loudly that Yuuri ducked his head in embarrassment. They both momentarily worried about how thin the walls were. Yuuri, still reeling from the surprise, buried his head in Phichit’s shoulder. “And he has a poodle!”

Phichit laughed again, pushing Yuuri off. His face was excited, hands tight on Yuuri’s shoulders. “Are you serious?”

Yuuri bobbed his head quickly. “Yeah. This could go wrong in so many wa—” He turned his head quickly as his phone chimed again.

 

_Yay! Are you free tonight? I also have to return your iTunes card_

_And my name is Victor Nikiforov, if you forgot. :)_

_Yuri Katsuki._

 

Yuuri quirked an eyebrow, ignoring the blood rushing to his face. “What iTunes card?”

“Really? That’s your first response to this?” Phichit asked, emphasizing his words with dramatic gestures. He accidentally knocked a teddy bear off the bed.

“I never gave him my last name…” Yuuri mumbled. He smiled a little. “I must have last night!”

“Yuuri you idiot,” Phichit said, shaking Yuuri’s shoulder. “Hurry up and tell the man you’re free tonight!”

Yuuri smiled widely, tapping out a reply, and then his face fell. “Oh,” he said, shoulders slumping. He sighed. “I have a Skype meeting for a group project tonight.”

“No you don’t,” Phichit argued, and Yuuri stared at him. His eyes still looked tired, but there was a sparkle in them.

“What? Yes I do.”

“No you _don’t,_ Yuuri.” Phichit said, throwing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You work so hard for school. Just this once, take come time for yourself. You deserve it.”

Yuuri’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Phichit, I literally took time for myself _last night_.”

“That wasn’t supposed to be for yourself, it was supposed to include me, so it doesn’t count. Just go, Yuuri.” Phichit shoved Yuuri’s elbow, pointing to the phone. “This is exciting!”

Yuuri pursed his lips, pushing his glasses up on his nose a little. “I mean…” he said quietly. “I guess I can.”

“Yes!” Phichit said, clapping as he jumped in his spot on the green comforter. “Tell Victor!”

Yuuri looked down at his phone.

 

_What time tonight?_

_Thank you Victor Nikiforov ^^_

 

“Aw that’s cute,” Phichit said, nodding approvingly over Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri dropped the phone hand into his lap, and he giggled.

He covered his mouth with his other hand, smiling through his fingers like an idiot. “I cannot believe this.”

Phichit patted Yuuri’s back with both hands. “I can. You’re a dangerous man.”

Yuuri laughed and rolled forward onto his knees so his head was pressed firmly into the blankets. He flopped over to his back, one hand holding his phone over his chest and the other pumping hard into the air. The phone made a noise, and Yuuri looked at it, smiling even before he read the message on the screen.

 

_7:30? I can pick you up or meet you somewhere._

_And you’re welcome :)_

 

Yuuri pursed his lips, typing a reply, trying to avoid dropping the phone on his face.

 

_I’ll meet you! Do you know a good place?_

 

“I’m asking him if he knows any good places. We’re going at 7:30. Wait,” Yuuri paused, looking over at Phichit. “Isn’t that dinner?”

Phichit rolled his eyes, stifling a yawn into his forearm. “Yeah, I would assume so.”

Victor replied with:

 

_There’s a really nice Vietnamese place near Ericson-Parliament station, does that sound good?_

 

Yuuri responded with:

 

_Yes it sounds great!_

 

Phichit laughed a little at Yuuri’s face. “You owe me for waking up just for this.”

“No I don’t,” Yuuri said, looking up at the ceiling, bare feet pressed against the headboard next to Phichit. “This just makes us even for you ditching me last night.”

Phichit rolled his eyes, patting Yuuri’s calf. “I want to go back to sleep now,” he admitted. “Don’t you have a paper to work on?”

Yuuri sighed, finally letting his hand fall. “Yeah, I guess I do.” He glanced at his phone as Victor confirmed and texted the address. “Fine,” Yuuri said, smiling yet.

Yuuri dragged himself out of Phichit’s bed, turning around once to look Phichit in the eye. Covering his mouth with his phone, which he held in both hands, he bowed a little. “Thank you!”

Phichit chuckled. “Such is my duty as your best friend.”

Yuuri nodded and walked out of the room, spinning past the doorframe and feeling like he was on top of the world. He turned into his own room, collapsing onto the bed and quickly opening Facebook on his phone. He accepted the friend request from Christophe Giacometti, making a mental note to look into Jean-Jacque Leroy later, and then searched Victor Nikiforov in the bar at the top.

He found Victor’s profile quickly, seeing that his picture was him and a small blonde person who Yuuri recognized as the one who’d brought him to Victor last night. A quick search proved that he was named Yuri Plisetsky, which was oddly coincidental. Yuuri wondered what their relationship was. In the picture, Victor was wearing fashionable sunglasses, standing in front of Niagara falls with an award-winning smile. He had his arm around the other Yuri, who was glaring at the camera with some serious contempt in his eyes. Yuuri smiled.

His cover photo was the same poodle from the picture in Victor’s hallway, covered in snow, his tongue hanging out goofily. The dog was the perfect shade of caramel, and Yuuri wanted to meet him immediately. 

The rest of Victor’s photos were of him with many others — sometimes he wore perfectly-tailored suits, sometimes beautiful, solid-colour casual sweaters, sometimes in soft-looking T-shirts, but he always looking fucking gorgeous. Yuuri’s face felt hot just looking… he had no idea how he was going to sit across from Victor and hold a conversation. He had no idea how he did before.

Yuuri rolled over onto his back and draped his arm over his eyes. How the hell was he going to focus on that paper?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope u liked it! I know it took a long time that's because I am failing school LOL good times
> 
> I love Phichit in this one
> 
> Victor is so suavey-pants (totally unlike his in-person personality lmao)


	5. Good Evening, Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri prepares to go on that date with the hot guy he (sort of) remembers

At 6:40PM, Yuuri shuffled out of the bathroom into the living area, twisting his hands together nervously. His black socks made tentative sounds against the linoleum as he walked. Phichit was standing in the kitchen over a pan of frying rice, eyes fixed happily to a drama he was watching on his laptop. 

“Phichit,” Yuuri coughed, making his friend look up. Phichit’s eyebrows hit his forehead and he quickly tapped the space bar on his laptop. “Do I look okay?”

“You look great, Yuuri!” Phichit said with clear approval. He turned to stir his field rice and then looked back just as Yuuri went to sit on one of the bar chairs. The kitchen light was bright, and Yuuri caught his friend’s eye anxiously. “I think your clothes are perfect.”

Yuuri peered down at himself. He was wearing dark grey jeans and a solid navy button-down with an olive crew neck jumper overtop. He had agonized over his clothes for a full twenty minutes; Yuuri didn’t often try to dress particularly nice two nights in a row. His usual aesthetic was track pants and sweaters and heavy jackets. “Do you think I can wear my sneakers with this?”

“The dark ones, sure,” Phichit nodded. Yuuri had a nice pair of dark grey and navy runners that wouldn’t be too little or too much, in his opinion. It was good to hear it from Phichit, though, because as friends went, they were both the brutally honest type. Phichit leaned on the counter, putting his fried rice spoon beside him. He examined Yuuri closely. “I think your hair is good too.”

Yuuri ran his fingers through it. “I didn’t do much to it. I just made it sit nicely.”

Phichit reached up to fix a flyaway. “Yeah, I think that’s good.” He smiled, like he was laughing at a joke in his head. “I like when you gel it, but he might have a heart attack if you did.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, moving to rest his chin in his hands. He hummed. “I’m kinda nervous.” It was a bit of an understatement. His leg bounced against the chair.

Phichit grinned, tapping the orange countertop with his middle finger. “If you weren’t nervous, I’d be concerned. After all these years with you.”

Yuuri smiled. “That’s true. Do you think—” his mouth fell open as his head lifted off its place on his hands. Phichit looked briefly concerned. “Oh no! I didn't get my wallet!”

“He’ll pay for you,” Phichit assured, brushing the air with his hand like it was obvious. “I already thought of that.”

Yuuri glared at him, kicking the bottom of the counter with his socked feet. “I’m not going into this _assuming_ things! I’d like to at least offer! And what if he doesn’t?”

Phichit reached into an empty flower pot near the wall and pulled out two twenties, putting one of them in Yuuri’s flexing hands. “Relax. I got you, fam.” 

Yuuri slid the bill into the back pocket of his jeans, grateful but still narrowing his eyes as soon as Phichit said ‘fam'. “Remember what we said about saying that?” He muttered.

“Fam,” Phichit chirped, going to stir his rice. “Fam, fam, fam, fam, fam.” Yuuri threw a pen from the counter at his friend. It bounced off the back of his head and fell to the floor. Phichit giggled as he shut off the stove. 

“Thanks, Phi,” Yuuri said. Phichit waved his hand. 

“Anything to get you laid.”

Yuuri huffed.

“Wait, I have work in the morning. How are you going to get back in?” Phichit turned around; his face looked seriously concerned, and a Yuuri less trained in Phichit would have been unable to see the glint in his eyes. Still, Yuuri fidgeted in his seat, face growing pink.

“I’m coming home _tonight_ , Phichit,” Yuuri mumbled. 

“Are you suuuuure?” Phichit sang, his eyebrows bouncing up and down suggestively. He waved his hand. “If you’re not, just ask management to let you in; they know you.” Yuuri looked up and Phichit winked.

“You are horrible,” Yuuri concluded, laughing.

Phichit nodded, pulling a plate out of the one cabinet without a door. “I know. When are you leaving?”

Yuuri looked at the clock above the stove, playing with the cuff of his sweater. “Ten minutes.”

“Want some rice?” Phichit offered as he served some for himself.

“I’m going for dinner,” Yuuri reminded him, and the other shrugged.

“I know, but you have an appetite.” Yuuri glared. Phichit laughed at his face. “It’s not a bad thing, though.” He set his plate down on the counter with a small clatter, clapping his hands dramatically on his cheeks. “Ooh, I wonder what Victor does!”

Yuuri put his chin back in his hands, cheeks squishing up cutely.

“I bet he has a really suave job. Maybe he’s a real estate agent…” Phichit made a face. “Nah, then we would recognize him. What if he’s a doctor?” He let out a low whistle. “That would be super sexy.”

Yuuri tapped his fingers on his face. “I hope he’s an astronaut.”

Phichit gave him a look. “You’re really fucking weird, Yuuri.”

“That’s coming out of _your_ mouth?”

Phichit smiled, leaning on the counter as he shovelled fried rice into his mouth. After swallowing, he looked at the ceiling. “What if he’s really disappointing? Like, what if he turns out to work at Walmart and just have a fetish for Asian guys? Or all he ever does is humblebrag? Or think that the only way to have good sex is to put his dick in your ass?”

Yuuri’s hands migrated from his chin up to his temples, massaging so hard his eyes stretched out comically. “Phichit, honestly.”

“What? I’m just saying. Be prepared for anything.”

Yuuri laughed a little, shuffling in his seat. “I am.” He sighed. “I know it can’t go as well as I planned in my head.” Yuuri tapped his nails on the counter absently.

“It can go basically three ways,” Phichit said hotly. Yuuri looked at him as he counted off on his fingers. “He’s totally fucking amazing and you’re super happy. Option two, is he’s mediocre or boring and the chemistry’s not there; in which case, at least you tried. Option three is that he’s a total creep, and \ you’ll be glad you got the fuck out of there.” Phichit threw his hands to his sides and smiled. “There, simple.”

Yuuri giggled. “What if he’s super amazing and I’m the loser?”

“That’s an oxymoron,” Phichit dismissed quickly. He crossed his arms, his spoon poking his shoulder. “If he thinks you’re a loser, he’s not super amazing. He’s lacking some serious mental capacity.”

Yuuri barked a laugh and pushed his glasses up. “You flatter me.”

“Rightly,” Phichit assured, cramming more rice in his mouth.

Yuuri nodded, setting his jaw. “Okay. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Yeah,” Phichit said, mouth full. “And the eyeliner was a nice touch.” Yuuri could barely understand him, but when he did, he ran a finger over his face nervously.

“It’s not too much?”

“No, I just noticed it. That’s less eyeliner than I wear to bed,” he explained. “It’s sexy.”

Yuuri laughed. “Thanks.” He hopped off his chair quickly and patted his thighs, pursing his lips. “Okay, I need to use the washroom before I go.”

When Yuuri was done, he checked the time on his phone before quickly shuffling out of the bathroom to get his shoes on. One last look in the mirror near the door told him he was presentable as he slid his raincoat over his arms (he’d worn the really nice one last night) and zipped it up. He turned to Phichit. “I cannot believe I’m doing this.”

“Me neither. But I’m proud.”

“Bye. See you tonight,” Yuuri waved, a little laugh escaping his lips.

Phichit waved back with both hands. “I can’t wait to hear how it goes! Text me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Yuuri replied, opening the door and stepping out, shutting it softly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i know it's short. LOL. the next one is long?
> 
> It might be a while until I post the next one!!!! Still have to get it edited. And like... finish it. And pretend i'm happy with it. The next one might be the last one, idk?
> 
> School has fucked me up this semester kids! who am i
> 
> But I would like to say....... thank you so much for all the comments, bless you guys. Seriously. I live for that. <3 love u

**Author's Note:**

> Haha aww. I was gonna write Makkachin in but I forgot so I just wrote Victor briefly talking about him ya know. Gives Yuuri something to look forward to. If he remembers this night ;) (he totally does) (and even if he doesn't Victor will not give up easily)
> 
> So yeah this thing happened to me. My shitty friend (whom I love but REALLY) calls me up at 1 while i'm fuckin sleeping like "hey i need u to let my drunk friend sleep at ur house" and her parents are really strict so drunk girl can't sleep at her house. I was angry, but it just got worse. Drunk girl was too uncomfortable to sleep at my house and my friend just ditched her there (turns out they weren't even friends) and left me to call a cab n shit. After she puked on everything. It was horrifying.
> 
> On an entirely different note idk why Yurio is out at a bar when he is clearly a smol child but I guess he's edgy so maybe Christophe (the Bad Influence) got him a fake ID or something. Maybe Christophe owned the club you never know.
> 
> Also I desperately need someone to proofread but idc enough to find one. Just comment if i made any mistakesss
> 
> I hope you liked this. Comment if u can I'd love it :)
> 
> ...  
> ((((And PS... on a very sad note... if anyone is affected by the shitty rise of fascism in the US and needs someone to talk to hmu. I'm with you all the way. Love you loads.))))


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